Can I Have Your Number?
by Come Lady Death
Summary: Based on and using the Mad TV sketch 'Can I Have Your Number', T'Pol gets hit on at the movies by a trader named Darrell. R&R pleases.


Commander T'Pol walked into the large theater and found a seat near the middle of the rows. She had been granted leave while Enterprise was docked at Jupiter Station for a layover. Commander Tucker, her usual movie companion, was stuck on the ship making upgrades to his beloved engines. But he had encouraged T'Pol to go to the new thriller they were showing on the station. So here she was, sitting quietly in the dim lighting, waiting for the show to begin.

Her Vulcan mind could multi-task easily. At the moment, T'Pol was contemplating the reviews she'd read about the movie she was here to see, calculating how long it would take for the upgrades and repairs on her ship to be completed, and she was also poking at a brain teaser she'd been working on for some time. But T'Pol found that most of her multi-faceted brain was occupied with thoughts of Commander Charles Tucker. She raised an eyebrow at the feelings inside her. She was surprised (but assumed she shouldn't have been) to feel a wave of loneliness concerning the engineer. She missed him. She missed his complaining about the movie not being a classic, him stealing her popcorn, him whispering criticism of the modern movies in her ear... Illogical! her mind screamed, but T'Pol found that she couldn't help it.

Suddenly she heard a loud exclamation behind her.

"Damn!"

T'Pol's lips quirked briefly in curiousity. She had thought she was alone in the theater. Another person must have come in without her realizing it. Male human, from the sound and scent.

"Damn!"

She went on with her thoughts, unconcerned with whatever crisis that was obviously going on behind her. But then it happened a third time.

"Oh, damn!"

T'Pol prepared to turn around and fix the heckler with an icy Vulcan stare of doom, but restrained herself and concentrated on the still-blank screen. The person behind her spoke rapidly, apparently trying to calm himself down. She did wish he would just shut up soon.

"Ok, ok, ok." A throat cleared. Then- "'Scuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?"

T'Pol didn't turn. Surely he wasn't talking to her. She had nothing to do with this man and he had no business speaking to her.

"Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?"

He was yelling, as if she wasn't able to hear. On the contrary, her pointed ears were quite acute and his raised voice actually hurt a little. T'Pol finally did turn and look at him. He was a bearded, brown-skinned young man in a trader's uniform. He was smiling at her and reminded her somewhat of Ensign Mayweather. "Can I help you?" she said in her most frigid tones.

The man was holding a soda in his hand and he gestured expansively with his arms as he talked to her. "Uhh, yeah, uhh, my name Darrell, it's spelled like Darrell but it's pronounced Durrell. Uhh, yeah, I just wanna let you know the back of your head is ridiculous!" He nodded a few times for emphasis, eyes wide in obvious appreciation of her...head.

T'Pol inclined her head slightly. "Thank you." I think... she finished mentally as she turned around in her seat to face the screen again.

"Yeah, you are welcome!" Darrell said. She heard him settling back into his seat and thanked the fates that he was no longer talking to her. T'Pol made a mental note to never frequent Jupiter Station's theater again. Some new life was just too weird.

Without warning Darrell slammed into the seat beside her. If her Vulcan training were not so complete, T'Pol would have leaped out of her skin. As it was, she simply drew back slightly and raised both eyebrows at him. The equivalent of a screaming 'OMG!' coming from a Vulcan. Darrell, eyes wide and staring, asked, "Where your boyfriend?"

T'Pol gave him a look. "Boyfriend?"

Darrell spread his hands in a 'duh' gesture. "Your boyfriend! Where your boyfriend at? Is he getting you refreshments? Is he tall? Is he getting you Mike 'n' Ikes?" He grinned at her. "Oh, you like Mike 'n' Ikes? Is he hefty? Is he coming back? Where your boyfriend?" He looked around frantically. "Where you boyfriend at? Where your boyfriend?"

T'Pol thought of Trip once again. He was tall, but not exactly hefty. He was more like- T'Pol blinked. This train of thought had to be derailed right now. Tucker was not her boyfriend. She summoned her near-infinite Vulcan patience and answered Darrell's chatter calmly, if not kindly. "I do not have a male consort at this time."

Darrell's wide eyes got even bigger. He was clearly elated that the Vulcan woman was single. "Oh you don't? Oh, you don't have a boyfriend? Oh ok, ok, ok, that's cool, yeah." Darrell seemed to be getting comfortable in the seat beside her and T'Pol was not looking forward to watching the movie seated beside this man. He took a breath, then said in a desperate tone, "So listen, umm, I was wondering, can I have your number? Can I have your number?"

T'Pol gave the chattering trader the least bit of attention she could. "I do not make a habit of giving out personal information in theaters, where I'm about to watch a movie."

Darrell sat back, nodding in understanding. "Ohhh, oh ok, ok, that's cool, that's cool, I get it, you know. You-You all into pondering like cinemas and make-believes and celluloids. Yeah, yeah ok, ok, me too, me too, ok, yeah, yeah, I respect that. Yeah, keep doing your thing, Miss Shalit." Darrell was in constant motion, moving his hands and head and body to give more emphasis to his words. T'Pol watched him out of the corner of her eye as he got up and moved away. "Miss Gene Shalit. Yeah, yeah that's cute."

T'Pol looked at the seat to her right. Darrell was really gone. But just as she was heaving a (mental) sigh of relief, he fell into the seat on her left side. "What's your name, delicate?!"

The Vulcan commander drew back again and cocked her eyebrows again. She took her hand off the armrest closest to Darrell and clasped her hands in her lap. "Commander T'Pol."

Darrell reared back in surprise, face displaying open shock. "Oh, T'Pol? Aw, damn, hold up!" He shook his head in amazement and admiration. "That's a Vulcan ass name, T'Pol! Yeah my little plomeek. Little salt, in my plomeek broth. Yeah, mmmm!" He licked his lips and T'Pol wondered how Starfleet would feel about one of their officers breaking a civilian's face. But not only would that be illogical, it would also be undignified.

Darrell took a sip of his drink and looked around the theater aimlessly. He spoke nonchalantly. So listen..." He looked at her in sudden desperation. "Can I have your number? Can I have your number?" His chest was heaving with quick, short breaths, T'Pol noted with a distinct lack of interest. She answered him again firmly.

"I am here on leave and I would like to watch this movie alone." Or at least not with you. "I'm sorry," she added insincerely.

Darrell nodded and waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh ok, ok, no I get it, I get it. I respect that." He got up and walked away. T'Pol was too pragmatic to believe that this was the last she'd hear of him and sure enough, not ten seconds later he appeared over her shoulder. "So I can't have it?"

T'Pol's gaze remained fixed straight ahead. "No. I do not give it out."

"Ohhhhh, ok, ok, I get it, I get it." Darrell's exclamation sounded like a discovery. T'Pol watched him come around to her other shoulder out of the corner of her eye. He was fascinating, in an annoying sort of way. One never knew what he'd say next. Preferably nothing, but such wishes were illogical. "Ok, you uhh, you being all selective cause you got pointed ears. Right? Right?" He grinned, sure now that he had the answer. "You think a lotta men can't handle the regalness of the Vulcan ancestry, right? Right? You all like T'Plana-Hath, T'Plana-Hath, T'Plana-Hath."

Darrell was obviously trying to get her to laugh. Well, she thought, he is destined to disappointment. Apparently this man was unfamiliar with the fact that Vulcans adhere only to logic. And Darrell was most definitely the polar opposite of logic. "I am not behaving in any particular way because of my biology." She would have gone on to explain Vulcan philosophy to him, but she doubted he would be able to comprehend.

Darrell was horrified by her denial. He crawled over the row of seats to sit beside her again. "Oh, T'Pol, T'Pol, T'Pol, T'Pol, girl. T'Pol, T'Pol. Don't be insecure, girl. Own those ears! Work your Vulcan-ness!"

T'Pol swore she would never think of Commander Tucker as annoying again. "I will," she said, attempting to humor the lunatic beside her.

Far from being dissuaded, Darrell laughed in appreciation. "Aw damn, you kinda sexy when you take my advice, girl, I like that. Yeah, I like that, yeah."

T'Pol had enough. She moved over one seat from Darrell. The trader took a drink to fortify his nerves. Then he moved over beside her again. "So, uh, so listen, can I have your number? Can I have it? Can I have it? Can I please receive the secret code that if entered telephonically it will pass me through to you which means it will be your beautiful ass number?" T'Pol continued to move away and Darrell continued to hop seats until T'Pol was on an aisle seat and he was still beside her. "Can I have it? No, come on, can I have it? Can I have it? Can I have it? Can I? Can I? Can I have it? Can I have it?" The look on his face was pathetic, like a sad puppy. He honestly looked like not having her number might kill him. He sniffed a few times. "Can I have it?"

Unfortunately, as Commander Tucker did before him, Darrell learned that the puppy face is next to useless on Commander T'Pol. She turned on him with a glare. "The movie is about to start. I would like to ponder it alone. However, if you wish for company, I'm sure there are some security personnel who would be happy to watch the film with you."

The persistent trader got the hint. Darrell got up and started walking away. "Oh, ok, ok alright, that's cool, that's cool, no, no, I get it, you know. You wanna like, you know, go through the all the intricacies of cinema. Ok. Ok. Yeah, so you, you know, keep-you keep doing your thing. You know, keep doing your thing. T'Pol Shalit, T'Pol Shalit. My little plomeek, yeah, ok bye. Alright, alright. I will miss you, though, will miss you. Alright you enjoy your day girl, alright? Take care. Alright." He walked up the aisle and out of the theater. Just before the doors closed on him, T'Pol's Vulcan hearing caught his last words.

"I love you."

And then he was gone. T'Pol fixed her eyes on the screen, which was beginning to light up at last. Out of all the alien cultures she'd met, all the anomalies she'd charted, all the scrapes she and the Enterprise crew had gotten into, Darrell was the strangest new life she'd ever encountered. I am never doing this again, she promised herself as the movie began. At least, not without Trip.


End file.
